


Unbecoming

by orphan_account



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 14:15:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4790324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luxury was unbecoming for a military commander in wartime.  But Gina Inviere was a luxury that Helena Cain was not interested in denying herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unbecoming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [streepytime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/streepytime/gifts).



Luxury was unbecoming for a military commander in wartime.

Admiral Cain did not indulge in luxuries. She was never seen relaxing, never seen enjoying an overly indulgent meal, a wine or hard spirit that might be seen as too rarefied. Her haircut was simple and took little effort to maintain, her workout clothes were as spartan as sparse as everything else about her. She would run on the treadmill, not breaking stride, for a solid hour, barking out orders as she broke a light sweat; she was the living picture of multitasking and brisk authority. She set a high bar for her crew and they worked hard to meet it. She expected no less of them than she did of herself.

But, unbeknownst to most of the crew, there were in fact two luxuries she did permit herself.

The first was a small number of silk undergarments. Silk was something of a rarity these days and these were soft, sumptuous next to her skin, and she relished them on the days when she wore them. The shift in her mood when she did was hardly perceptible to those around her, but of course, her guard was always up. She, however, felt the difference and that was all that mattered.

The second luxury was the civilian systems engineer, Gina Inviere. She was smart, efficient, and yet somehow strangely dewy-eyed, innocent. The brush of Gina’s honey-blonde hair against her neck when they embraced, the softness in her smile, the besotted look the girl would give her in bed after they’d enjoyed each other, all lifted something in her heart, even if she could scarcely admit it to herself. As with her other luxury, the shift in her mood was barely visible to those around her, but in this case, a few of those who knew her well could tell.

Gina was a luxury that Helena Cain was not interested in denying herself. Gina had been fascinated with Helena’s other luxury item the first time they’d gone to bed together. Helena had had an inkling that their evening might end up that way, and had worn her favorite pair of black underthings. Gina had never encountered something that soft; when she’d peeled Helena’s rough wool uniform trousers off, and stroked her fingers lightly over the impossibly thin, smooth silk, she’d gasped with surprise. She’d refused to let Helena take them off at first, touching her with slow, exploratory strokes, enjoying the way her fingers slipped over the fabric and feeling the warmth of Helena's skin so clearly through it, bringing her to a soft climax almost accidentally.

The last time Helena had had a sexual involvement with someone, it had been less a luxury and more of a perfunctory exchange. They might as well have been trading food rations as having sex. They rarely took all of their clothes off. They never stayed the night. And Helena had made such a point of keeping it empty and meaningless that she never really constructed a clear memory of her partner’s face despite how many times it had happened. They were only a silhouette of shoulders, a shadow of jawline, a low voice muttering, "Wanted to see me, sir?"

But this was different. Gina wanted to be fully engaged; fully naked, tangled together, looking her in the eye, whispering, “That’s it … show me what you want.” Gina wanted to belong to her, get lost in her, give her every last pleasure that she could. She wanted to learn Helena’s body, send electric shocks up her spine, surrender herself over to be used. Nights with Gina were sweet, rich as chocolate, a soft balm to her hard, jangled senses and their raw, rough edges; silk all over the inside of her as well as out.

On this particular evening, the two were naked and entwined in the admiral's unyielding bed (Gina never complained at how hard the mattress was), Helena tracing idle fingers over Gina's lovely cheekbones, dwelling in the little tugging feelings in her chest as she took in the younger woman's beauty. She trailed her fingers down Gina's spine, stopping at the tip of her tailbone, stroking the spot lightly and enjoying Gina squirming in her arms. It seemed to both tickle and arouse her, and Helena ate it up, felt she would never get tired of it. After a slow, lingering kiss, she asked, "What was the first thing you liked about me?"

"Your warm, fuzzy personality." Gina grinned teasingly.

Helena snorted.

They kissed again. "Come on."

Gina sighed. "I've never met anyone like you," she said after a minute of thought. "You have a... a fire in you. And your mind is sharp as a razor.". Helena stiffened when she said this. "Also," Gina added coyly, planting a small kiss behind her ear, "I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy watching you on that treadmill." Her eyes twinkled, crinkling around the corners the way they did when she was amused.

Helena chuckled, basking in the warmth of Gina's affection.

"What about you?" Gina asked after a moment.

Helena looked at Gina for a few endless seconds; the soft lips, the sweetness of her smile. Her intelligence, her quiet wit... Something in Gina caused memories of her sister to flicker dimly in her stomach. Holding Gina tightly after sex flooded her with a warmth, the feeling of having been given a second chance to protect something innocent and beautiful. But this was something she would never speak about, certainly not to Gina and probably not often even in the darkness of her own mind.

"You know," she decided after a moment, "there was something that was very familiar about you right from the beginning."

Gina looked at her strangely.

"I felt ... comfortable with you right away. That's very unusual for me. Isn’t that funny?"

Gina shook her head. "That doesn't sound funny at all. I’m glad." She burrowed into the curve of Helena’s neck, and Helena felt the damp heat of Gina’s breath against the tender skin.

They settled into each other's arms, listening to each other's breathing become slower. Helena wanted to let herself dwell in memories of her sister; her laugh, the clever games she'd play, the way she'd clutched at that favorite doll everywhere she went. Helena clutched at Gina like that doll, wanting to let herself imagine that the gods had given her, in the person of this gentle lover, a chance to redeem her failure to protect the one person who meant more to her than anything. She breathed the clean scent of Gina’s hair, felt the length of their bodies fitting together in the low light, and became aware of something in her chest that was the opposite of aching. She wanted to imagine that the decisions she made every day to keep her crew alive were protecting Gina, and that it was nearly as good as a penance for failing to save her sister from the grasp of that Cylon ship. Helena felt suddenly small, so much like her nine year old self, watching as the ship disappeared into the clouds, only this time, she was holding onto Gina, not letting her go. She wanted to believe that it was almost as good as having done right the first time.

But that, of course, was too great a luxury. And luxury was unbecoming for a commander in wartime.


End file.
